


Route 66

by bubblegumgirl



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Background Minor Character Death, Feels, Gen, Running Away, Slash if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-25
Updated: 2014-09-25
Packaged: 2018-02-18 17:01:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2355875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubblegumgirl/pseuds/bubblegumgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peggy dies on a Thursday. Blood clot, they tell him, a side effect from the medication. He doesn’t ask any more details, just thanks them when they tell him the funeral date and hangs up.</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>How Steve reacts to the news</p>
            </blockquote>





	Route 66

**Author's Note:**

> this is set in a weird time, after the second captain america, but before the avengers becomes a proper team like in the comics. Tony and Steve are friends in this story. can be read as pre-slash or gen, depending on what you prefer

Peggy dies on a Thursday. Blood clot, they tell him, a side effect from the medication. He doesn’t ask any more details, just thanks them when they tell him the funeral date and hangs up. He doesn’t mention it to anyone else, just spends the next day doing paperwork from home and not answering calls. He’s not sure if they already know, the death of one sick old woman is hardly newsworthy, no matter how big a role she played in creating SHIELD.

He goes to the funeral, stands at the back and listens to strangers tell stories about a life that he wasn’t there to see. They hadn’t asked if he had wanted to speak, and he didn’t offer.

“She used to talk about you, tell us stories about the war,” Rachel, Peggy’s youngest daughter, says to him after the coffin had been lowered and everyone began to disperse for the reception.

“She used to talk about you too,” Steve smiles weakly. “About how proud she was of all of you.”

He doesn’t go to the reception, instead he rides back to his apartment and packs a bag. Clothes and essential all neatly folded into a single duffel bag that he slings over his back. He contemplates leaving his shield, but in the end he takes that too. He leaves his phone and the funeral program on the kitchen counter and walks out the door.

He rides for hours, no clear direction, just away from the noise and traffic of New York City, only stopping when his motorbike needs petrol. The riding helps, the rushing wind making it easier to breathe through the heaviness in his chest. By the time it’s dark, he’s already in Pennsylvania. He doesn’t know where exactly, but it doesn’t matter. He pays cash for a room at the first dingy motel he sees, it has water damaged walls and smells faintly of bleach and mould, but the sheets are clean and the shower is hot. He repeats this pattern for a week before finally he lets himself stop for more than a night.

He stays for three days in a small town that he never bothers to learn the name of somewhere in Indiana. He gets a job at one of the diners, earning cash by filling in for one of the waitresses who had the flu. It’s nice, easy and uncomplicated, and it eases the weight in his chest a little, helps him breathe, until one day it doesn’t. Then he leaves, riding for five days this time before stopping at another town. He thinks this one starts with a J, but he’s not sure. He gets another job at a diner, tells the manager he’s just passing through, looking for a few days’ work and some cash. The manager is a heavy set woman who looks at him with knowing eyes and doesn’t ask why he wants to be paid in cash. He lasts almost a week before he can’t breathe again.

Four months go by in this way, with the distances getting shorter and the stays getting longer. He starts learning names and places, starts paying attention to the direction he’s travelling. He’s in Arizona when Tony finds him. He knows the moment Tony walks into the diner, because Beverly, the other waitress on shift, whistles, long and low.

“Check out tall, dark and handsome that just walked in.”

Steve looks around to see, “Tall?”

“Tall-ish,” she shrugs, “plus, that suit would have cost a fortune, rich people don’t need to be tall.”

He lets her take the table, even though it’s in his section, and watches as she shamelessly flirts. He can feel Tony’s eyes on him for the rest of his shift, even as he flirts back with Beverly. Tony is still there when the lunch rush finishes, nursing a cup of coffee, eyes on Steve as he folds up the apron and leaves it on the counter. He won’t need it anymore.

He walks out the door, waving goodbye to Beverly as she counted her tips in the corner. He waits outside for Tony, leaning back against the wall, eyes closed, his face turned towards the sun. He likes the heat out here, likes the way it feels when he’s on his bike and the wind and the sun seem to be fighting against each other. He opens his eyes and sees Tony standing there, watching him. Steve turns and starts walking to the motel, knowing Tony will follow him. He wants to have this conversation in private, preferably somewhere with air conditioning. It’s a short walk, no more than five minutes before the lurid green cactus logo of his motel comes into view. This motel is one of the better ones he’s stayed at, the wallpaper and furniture actually from this decade, but Tony still looks glaringly out of place in his expensive suit and $200 sunglasses.

“You don’t call, you don’t write,” Tony quips once the door is closed.

“Didn’t have a phone, and you don’t read your mail,” he replies.

“That’s not true, Pepper reads it and tells me what it says, that’s the same thing,” Tony looks at Steve seriously, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

Tony reaches into his pocket and holds out the funeral program for him to take. It’s slightly crumpled, battered around the edges as if it had been carried around in someone’s pocket for a long time.

“Four months is a long time to run away from nothing.”

Steve sighs and sits on the bed. He doesn’t bother arguing, Tony is right, he ran away from New York and all the memories he had there.

“They were strangers, all of them, and they were telling stories about her life and all I could think was that I wasn’t there for any of it. She was the last person I knew from back then, and now she’s gone. I  just… couldn’t see the point in staying anymore.”

Tony sits in the chair opposite Steve.

“I would have come with you, if you’d wanted me to.”

“I know,” Steve smiled softly at him. “And thanks.”

“For what?”

“For coming and finding me.”


End file.
